Just Listening
by PenInHand9
Summary: A series of missing moments that I find inspiration for. Genres will range from sad and intense to light and humorous. Latest: Ever wonder how the whole 'Sam taking care of Witch' thing went? Now you know.
1. Just Listening

The day that terrible phone call came was one that would never be forgotten in the Forster home.

"**Hello, Wyatt? This is Sheriff Ballard… **

Samantha Forster, seven years old, sent her stubby pony after her best friend Jake. Jake Ely, having reached the wise and experienced age of 9 years old, trotted proudly on his first real horse. Chestnut and sturdy, the quarter horse snorted in the early morning air, strutting a bit in his eagerness to stretch his legs.

Hearing the thudthudthudthud of the pony behind him, Jake turned in the saddle.

"Aw Sam, leave me alone! Can't see I'm doin' serious cowboyin' work?" Of course the boy didn't _really_ want her to leave. He had to have someone see how good he was doing after all. And, always determined, Sam stuck her tongue out at him and rode up next him. Auburn hair fluttered into her face and she impatiently tugged it behind her ears.

Her pony, Colossus (nicknamed Cully, for Colossus really was hard to get out through her missing front teeth), tossed his head, sending his heavy forelock up over his ears and out of his eyes. Sam giggled and called for Jake to wait up, for his long, horsey strides took him far ahead of poor Cully.

**I- I don't know how to tell you this…**

Sam and Jake rode back to Riverbend. If they weren't back by sundown, it meant no riding the next day, and neither could imagine such a horrible punishment. Besides, Sam's mom promised to make lasagna that night and the two of them practically drooled at the prospect. Mmmm…

Crossing the wooden bridge, Sam looked into the swirling blue water beneath the bridge, imagining it welcoming her home after her adventures. Her river- La Charla. She remembered when her mom took her out to its sloping banks one night, after bedtime. _Way _after bedtime, she had later boasted to an envious Jake. Sitting on a flattened rock, Mom had told her stories about the river. She said that it talked to whoever would listen and if she ever felt lonely, she should just listen to the river.

Sam had smiled, "Rivers don't talk!" But Mom had insisted, and now every time Sam passed by, she tried to hear it.

**You see, there was an accident, out near Sawyer's place…**

As soon as they had entered the ranch yard, something seemed wrong to Sam. She looked around, trying to pinpoint her unease. Everything seemed normal. Blaze lay panting on the front porch, and next to him, her dad and Dallas were talking quietly. Sam smiled knowingly, remembering a joke she and her mother shared. _'I swear Samantha, the only time a cowboy will talk loud is to a cow.'_ Jake rode his horse over to the hitching post and Sam tagged behind. She slid down from her saddle, and, very carefully in case Dad were watching, loosened the cinch, slid Cully's bit out of his mouth, and tied his reigns to the post in a secure slip knot.

Sam peeked towards Dad again. He hadn't watched. She felt slightly disappointed but shrugged it off. Running on her small, 7 year old legs, she raced to him. Jake followed slowly behind in his proud, 'cowboy' walk.

"Daddy! Guess what? Jake got a horse! A big one!" Her arms reached as far as they could around his middle. To her shock, Dad hugged her back real tight and started crying. Dad _never_ cried.

**A really bad accident…**

Seven year old Samantha Forster sat in an uncomfortable church pew, all in black, between Dad and Jake. A preacher stood in front of the church going on about some woman who was a responsible, dedicated person who had died before her time.

Sam had to keep reminding herself he was talking about Mom.

Her head hurt, the velvet of her dress was itchy. She just wanted to go home and put on her favorite horseshoe pajamas and have Mom make her hot chocolate and read her a story. But Mom couldn't do that anymore.

She still wasn't really sure what happened, but Dad said Mom wasn't coming back, and a lot of people in black kept coming up to her and telling her how sorry they were. Sam shuddered. She hated the color black.

A lump in throat made it hard to breath, her eyes kept blurring, and no matter how many times she swiped at her cheeks, they kept getting wet. Beside her, proud, wise, nine year old Jake grabbed her small hand and held it, trying to keep all form of liquid inside his eyes. Cowboys don't cry.

**The car swerved, around a herd of antelope I think…**

The service finally ended, and everyone went to the Forster house. As soon as the car stopped, Sam tore off the itchy velvet dress and ran across the ranch yard in her slip. Stumbling blindly to the large, flat rock, Sam did nothing to stifle the tears, only stopped sobbing and shut up. Mom said that she needed to listen. That when she was lonely, the river would talk to her.

And though there were lots of people pouring into Riverbend, she had never felt as alone as right now. River sounds met her ears. Normal ones—water rushing over rocks, crickets singing on the bank, the small splash of a jumping frog. Still straining, Sam thought she heard something else. Whether it was her imagination or real, Sam heard her mother's voice one last time.

"Just listen, Sam. I'll always be here." Sam sat back on her heels, staring into the rushing water. She sat there for a long time, thinking and listening.

Finally Dad's call shattered her trance. There he came, black dress dangling in one hand, seeming stiff and uncomfortable in his suit. Shrugging out of his coat, he looked a little more relaxed as he strode down to where Sam sat.

"Sam, what're you doin' down here?" he asked, sounding tired and sad. Sam turned to look back over the water before scrambling into Dad's arms.

"Just listening."

**Wyatt… Louise was killed." **

A/N: tissues for all. I swear, I started crying as I was writing it. I know I didn't put Gram in this, but I couldn't fit her anywhere. You know she's there.


	2. Counting Heartbeats With Hooves

Disclaimer: NO ONE owns the Phantom Stallion.

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**Counting Heartbeats With Hooves**

Sam was falling.

One minute Blackie's smooth, strong back was beneath her and the next it was gone. The world spun as the ground rushed up to meet her with open arms.

A sudden, sharp impact in the side of her head made pain bloom behind her eyes. So immense was the pain that Sam hardly noticed when she hit solid Nevadan dirt.

"Sam! Oh God, Sam!" Jake? That was Jake definitely, but his voice sounded far away, paling in comparison to a steady rhythm that vibrated through her entire being.

_Thud-thud. _

A shadow blocked out the fading sun and Jake's hands lit on her arm light as dust, as though afraid that she might shatter. Maybe she would.

_Thud-thud._

"Sam can you hear me!? Please wake up!" Sam could just barely see his face dancing in and out of shadows and shapes. She tried to see his mustang eyes, wanted them to let her know everything was okay. For some reason, she couldn't.

_Thud-thud._

Sam closed her eyes against the throbbing ache that seemed to rattle her head. How did that happen? A soft muzzle nosed her hand, blowing and snorting into her palm. Blackie?

_Thud-thud. _

"Aw, Sam, I don't know what to do!" Jake hesitated for several long moments, his hands still on her arm. But she couldn't really feel them anymore…

_Thud-thud. _

Was it hours or seconds later that he spoke again? "Sam, I promise, I swear, I'll be right back. I gotta get Wyatt. H-he'd know what to do."

_Thud-thud. _

And like that, Jake was gone. The whiskery muzzle was jerked out of her hand and suddenly Sam felt very alone. Where was Blackie going?

_Thud-thud. _

As the darkness gathered around Sam, she began to wonder about the noise she kept hearing.

_Thud-thud._

It was strange, quiet, kind of fading away…

_Thud-thud._

Sam tried to talk, to laugh, to call Blackie back to her.

_Thud-thud. _

But even as she slipped from consciousness, Sam knew.

Blackie was gone.

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A/N: I hope this on was as moving as the first chapter. This installment was too short to make into a separate story. I think I'm just going to keep adding in missing moments into this story when the inspiration hits me. Hope you liked this! 

PS review and ask if you're still confused on the alleged _thud-thud_!


	3. Jake's Guide

**Jake's Guide to the Cara and Keeping of Sam **

**1) Don't push Sam. She will push you back.**

It had all started out as a simple argument. Jake was trying to explain that horses couldn't fly. It just didn't work like that. But even at four years old Samantha Forrester was stubborn as a mule and refused to even listen to her older and clearly wiser friend. In fact she had placed not listening as her top most priority.

"La, la, la, la, I'm not listening! La, la, la, la!" Jake stared on in exasperation as she placed her hands over her ears and danced around in a circle, auburn pigtails bouncing.

"Sam, I'm telling you, horses can't—."

"LA, LA, LA!"

"Sam!"

"LA, LA, LA!"

"Argh!" Anybody in his position would have done the same. You simply couldn't blame Jake for reaching his limit. He didn't even really push her. So he might have nudged her a bit. Big deal. His brothers shoved him around ten times harder every day!

But that didn't stop Sam from staring up at Jake in shock from her newly acquired seat in the dirt. Nor did it stop her from balling up her fists and growling. Or tackling poor Jake.

He didn't stand a chance. Sam didn't fight fair. She pinched. She bit. She pulled hair. Jake defended himself the best he could, but he couldn't hit her. She was a _girl_.

Finally the onslaught ended. Sam sat on the defeated Jake and leaned over till they were nearly nose-to-nose.

"DON'T. PUSH. ME!" she yelled.

And with that, she leapt up and ran to the barn.

**2) Never let Sam out of your sight.**

Ten year old Jake had left the barn for five minutes. _Five minutes_. And somehow Sam had managed to get herself in this mess. Sighing in frustration, he craned his neck to where the girl clung to the rafters. Don't ask him how she got there.

"Ja-aake!" she whimpered. "Get me down!" Hearing real fear in her voice, Jake squared his shoulders. It was up to him to save Sam.

He climbed up to the hay loft, which connected to the support beam Sam was on. It was sturdy and wide. As long as Jake didn't look down, he'd never know he was so high up.

"Hurry!" Sam cried as she huddled on the beam. She was about midway out over the aisle. Dropping to his hands and knees, Jake began to make his way across.

There was only one point where his heart leapt in his throat. His knee had slipped out from beneath him, but he grabbed the wood and bit back a yelp.

After what seemed to be ages, Jake reached Sam. She grabbed at his hands and he could feel her shaking.

"Kay Sam, we're just gonna go back now, see? No problem." She looked down—_big mistake_ Jake thought—but nodded. Still keeping a death grip on his left hand, Sam began to shimmy back along the rough wood. Jake barely managed a backwards crawl. The seconds crawled away till Jake's boots met solid footing. Once she was safe, Sam threw herself at Jake and squeezed.

Wind effectively knocked out of him, Jake gasped and choked, then finally began patting Sam weakly on the back, the only way he could think of to get Sam off him and regain the ability to _breathe_.

"Thank you, Jake," Sam sniffled into his shirt.

**3) Sam must be supervised around any and all horses.**

"Andwehavealovelyridingponyhereeightyearsoldandcalmasakittenperfectforthebeginner rider. CanIgettwohundreddollarIseetwohundredhowaboutthreehundredthreehundredthree hundredyesIhavethreehundred—." The auctioneer's voice rang out over the crowd as bids waved in the hot summer air. It was the fourth of July festival and Wyatt Forrester had given in to his nine year old daughter's pleas to see the horse auction. Jake wanted to see the horses just as bad, but refused to stoop to Sam's immature whining. So he only cheered on the inside as Sam's dad led the way to the crowded ring.

After spending some time listening to the buzz of the auctioneer (and Sam's nonstop 'oohs' and 'ahs' over each four-legged beast that stepped into the pen), the trio wandered over to the area where the horses were kept. There were hundreds! Ponies, Quarter horses, huge draft horses, tiny miniatures—in every color imaginable from the darkest black to albino white.

Sam was in heaven, going from corral to corral, petting each nose that was thrust through the wooden slats. Jake quietly observed each horse, his skills at horsemanship were improving everyday and he was now able to judge a horse's good and bad qualities at a glance.

One particular pen soon caught the attention of Wyatt, Sam, and Jake. Inside it pranced a lone horse. His coat glowed a rich brown and was flecked with white, his face bore a proud white splash that bled into his curving neck. Muscles rippled in his powerful shoulders and his eyes were rimmed with white as he snorted and blowed nervously at his enclosure.

"That there be the finest mustang we have to offer," commented an old cowboy passing by. His face was leathery from the sun and his bowel-legged gait told of many hard years in the saddle. "Fresh off the range, all ready to be tamed," he continued, eying Wyatt up. Sam's dad chuckled.

"That creature seems to _loco_ for the likes of me. But he sure is something."

"Yeah," Sam breathed. Jake tore his eyes off the mustang and looked over at the girl.

Being only eleven, Jake wasn't quite sure what love looked like, but he was pretty sure Sam looked it. Her eyes were dreamy as she stared into the pen, and she looked a bit stunned.

Jake sighed. Typical Sam. Throwing her heart out on a dream. Jake shook his head and looked back at Wyatt. He and the cowboy had moved on to another corral, talking casually.

Shrugging Jake walked back to the horse he had been studying earlier. It was a fine dapple gray mare heavy with foal. He wasn't sure if it was mustang he was seeing in her, or some other mixed breed, but it was beautiful whatever it was.

"What in the—hey Chase, check this out! There's a little girl in with the stallion!" Jake closed his eyes. She didn't. She wouldn't.

"Sam!" Wyatt yelled.

She did.

Jake ran back to the mustang corral where a crowd had now gathered. Wyatt was gripping the fence, knuckles white, his face tight with fear. Jake peered through the rails.

Sure enough, Sam was inside the fence _standing next to a wild stallion_. Jake felt his heart stop and his eyes widen. Head not reaching above the mustang's shoulder, Sam stood within a couple feet of the _playa_ sharpened hooves, talking to the animal. He voice was soft and encouraging, trying to tempt those swiveling brown ears to listen.

The stallion stomped and snorted and the crowd gasped, as if it were all some big show.

_But it's not a show,_ Jake wanted to yell, _it's REAL, and that's SAM in there!_ But to everybody's amazement, the stallion stepped forward and reached out his nose to her.

Sam offered an apple she had fished from her pocket, giggling when the mustangs tongue tickled her palm.

Jake was stunned. She's nuts… absolutely insane… But with his own eyes he watched her stroke his nose, then neck, and the crowed gave a sentimental 'aw'.

"S-Sam," Wyatt called quietly, his voice cracking a bit, "Come on sweetie." Sam nodded, gave the mustang one last pet, then turned and climbed out of the pen. There was applause as Wyatt hugged his daughter tight, muttering, "Don't you ever, EVER, do that again!" Sam nodded, but Jake knew that look in her eye.

**4) Algebra is lost on Sam. Don't even try.**

"No! Please no! I'll do anything, _anything_, just please, not that!" Jake raised an eyebrow at Sam, brandishing the text book threateningly at her. She dropped to her knees and clasped her hands. "Look Jake. I'm begging you! Not today, I can't take it!"

Both eyebrows went up.

"Sam, surely ninth grade algebra isn't _that_ terrifying."

**5) Sam + cooking equals run.**

There was no warning. None. Jake had been minding his own business, working with a new mare at Riverbend, when Sam had called him in for lunch.

After stomping his boots off on the porch and hanging his hat on the hook, Jake opened the kitchen door, fully expecting to be greeted with one of Sam's grandmother's famous meals. He didn't expect the kitchen to look like it was hit by a hurricane. But it did.

Pots and pans took up every surface, some containing food, some seeming to have no purpose at all. Grated cheese made a small mountain on the counter and other various ingredient-type foods were scattered about the room, and smoke seemed to hang in the air.

"Er—Sam?"

"Yeah?" She poked her head up from behind the counter. Jake struggled, at a lost for words.

"What… what happened here?" Sam looked around.

"Oh! Well, Gram wanted me to learn how to make Mom's lasagna. Things… got a little messy." Jake nodded in bemusement as she hustled him to the table and into a chair. "And now… you can be the first one to try it out!" Jake gulped.

"Uh, Sam, I'm not really that hungry—."

"No, you're not getting out of it! Now here, just try a bite." She thrust a plate in front of him. The charcoaled lump that sat on top of it did not look edible.

"Sam, really I—."

"Just try it! It's not going to kill you!"

_-1hourlater-_

Sam tiptoed to the doorway, a glass of seltzer water in hand. The retching noises had finally died down.

Peering into the room, Sam saw Jake collapsed against the toilet. Wiping his mouth, he glared daggers at her. She rubbed the back of her neck and handed him the glass.

"Oops! Maybe it will kill you…."

* * *

A/N: Finally! Some humor! Just some cute little oneshots—hope you enjoy! (will continue with this idea should inspiration occur) 


	4. Well worth the heart failure

A/N: I'm actually surprised I didn't do this one earlier—I love that quote. I was writing this while I was _supposed_ to be paying attention in math. Heh, whoops.

Disclaimer: I don't own the series, but the oneshots are of my own inspirations.

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"_**He leaned out of his saddle, and his gloved fingers spread wide, reaching for her, for a rein, for anything to make her safe." (--pg. 227, **__**Run Away Home)**_

The roaring snow careened up the hill, finally slowing against the steep incline. Witch staggered on the still-shifting ice, shuddering and shaking from her struggle to remain upright. Her rider could do little to comfort her, as he was shaking for an entirely different reason.

_Sam._

Jake stared at his hand; she had been just out of his grasp. He remembered her wild eyes, her pale face, her lips forming his name before she was snatched by the blinding white.

_Sam._

The broken cowboy dismounted and sank to his knees. Again, he was with her, could have protected her… and he failed. The silence suffocated Jake, the settled snow glittered innocently around him.

_Sam._

The quiet was shattered with a faint whinny. Starved of sound, the tracker in Jake began to pick up the familiar pawing and movements of a horse herd. Struggling to his feet, Jake reeled. The Phantom's band survived?

_Sam._

He stumbled up the hazardous terrain, Witch trailing wearily behind. Without warning a deep valley opened up before him. It was breath-taking and sudden and Jake felt the need to pinch himself. Ignoring the urge, his eyes scanned among the horses searching for the brown Stetson, the bright auburn hair—there!

_Sam._

Jake's heart sped up at the sight of her, alive and… currently staring hard at the cliff wall above her. Surely she wasn't going to—shit. Unsteady at first, then with a bit more confidence, Sam began picking her way up the wall. That settled it. Sam was definitely trying to give him a heart attack. Clenching his fists, Jake focused on the girl, searching out every handhold, hissing when she fumbled on the rock face.

_Sam._

Several eternities later (it could not have been the ten measly minutes his watch suggested), Sam had reached a small ledge and paused. Jake shifted, trying to see what was wrong, and sent a small shower of gravel tumbling. Her head snapped up and their eyes locked. He could see her fear and exhaustion and began trembling in his helplessness.

_Sam._

"Didn't mean to scare you," he muttered, relieved that he effectively hid the tremor in his voice.

"How long have you been there?" Sam asked.

"A while. I didn't want to break your concentration." He sucked in a breath as she began to turn to look down at how high she was… Heck, he was dizzy, and he was on fairly solid ground. "I wouldn't do that." Jake grabbed his rope and began lowering it. "Take this, instead."

Her face lit up and Jake felt his heart flip. Damn nerves. He cleared his throat. "You know how to tie a bow knot." He knew she knew. He taught it to her himself, when they were kids and the highest she could climb was the barn rafters. Lost in his memory, he was startled out of his thoughts when she refused.

"I'm not going to fall. I've made it this far without the rope, I can finish on my own."

"No—."

"Yes."

_Sam._

Oh Lord, she was going to make him beg.

"Well, I'm kinda scared," _terrified _might be more accurate. "I've _been_ kinda scared. Just do it for me, will ya?" He caught the confused and fearful look Sam cast at the rope in her hands. She wasn't remembering. Ah well, memory lane, here they come.

"It'll give me something to do if you let me talk you through it." He proceeded to dreg up the old lesson, relieved as she began picking it up. Tightening the knot, Sam had the gall to joke.

"I'm being careful. I won't dash my brains on the rocks below." Jake almost groaned aloud as he began pulling steadily on the rope. Her life was in his hands, and she was making _jokes._ Agonizing seconds later, Sam appeared over the edge, shivering and panting. Jake suppressed the urge to hold her tight and never let go, opting instead to get her away from the deadly drop.

_Sam._

She came to a halt, calming slightly. "Did you see my hat?"

Did climbing do odd things to people's minds? She just scaled a cliff, and she was worried about her stupid _hat_!?

"Yeah," Jake said, deciding honesty would get some sense in her. "It's buried under about a thousand tons of sow. I was just glad your head wasn't in it." Sam winced. Oops. Maybe that was too honest. Jake back tracked quickly. "Maybe you'll get a new one for Christmas." Still not satisfied, she asked about Jeep. Jake assured her he was fine, wondering at how she seemed oblivious to the horrible situation she was just in.

He must have given her a look, because she faced him fully.

"Don't worry none about givin' _me_ heart failure. Just fret over that rattailed Appaloosa." She defended herself, exasperated, but Jake silenced her with a hand.

_Sam._

Scooping up the reins, he thought back on the past year, and before that, when they were kids. No matter how closely Jake watched over her, despite his protectiveness, she still managed to get herself into all sorts of trouble.

"You gonna be like this for the rest of your life?" he asked quietly.

"Like what?" Jake grabbed his jacket off his saddle horn, wondering when he had taken it off. Vaulting onto Witch, he offered Sam a hand up. "Guess that answers my question," he muttered grinning a bit. Oddly enough, Sam dissolved into giggles.

"You wouldn't like me any other way," she managed, plopping her hands on her hips. He rolled his eyes and told her to get on. Her eyes glinted stubbornly.

"Admit it."

"Just get on the horse." For once, she complied, still laughing. But as she wrapped her arms around his waist, Jake thought of the way Sam's smile lit her face up. Her burning love for the wild and free. Her laughter still brushing against his ear. Her words echoed in his mind.

"_You wouldn't like me any other way."_

Jake smiled.

"_I guess it's true…"_

_Sam._

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A/N: I realized I've made something of a habit of echoing one thing throughout my oneshots. Sorry if it annoys, but I like the way it seems to resonate and enforce the point of a story. Again, if you find a spot in the series that seems to scream 'missing moment' to you, review and let me know and I'll see if I can make a story to go along with it. Remember, creativity knows no bounds! (ick, corny. Forgive me, I'm tired.) 

P.S. I slipped in some allusions to my 'Care and Keeping' chapter. Virtual cookies to those who can spot them!


	5. Daddy 101

A/N: Back from the grave, at last! I'm like Tupac. Fo'shizzle.

So. Yeah. I'm sticking with the whole humor bit for now. It makes me giggle. Um, slight OOC warning, mostly on Jake's part. But, man, I love making him spastic and clueless in his head. The quiet ones generally are. Yeah, that's right, Ely, I'm on to you!

Disclaimer: Be SO thankful I don't own. Seriously. _Seriously.

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_

**Daddy 101**

Jake was panicking. He needed help, _a lot of it, _but he didn't know where to turn. His mom? Yes, his mom might do. But then she might tell Dad. Dad might slip it to his brothers. And then all hell would break loose.

No. Family couldn't be trusted in this matter. But he needed to figure something out soon, because said family was going to be home any minute.

_And the damn thing would not shut up!_

Jake paced his room, placing his hands over his ears in an unsuccessful attempt to block out the incessant wailing.

Wait! Jake stopped, and hope seemed restored. Sam. She could help with his… situation. Scooping up his bag and It, he ran out the door, barely snagging his keys off the rack on his way.

…………………………...

Sam stared. And rubbed her eyes. And maybe her mouth hung open a little. Maybe. But can you blame her? It's not everyday you see Jake Ely standing on your front porch in desperation.

Carrying a DIAPER BAG.

Holding a BABY.

Although, now that she looked properly, the baby seemed more a doll than a living, breathing infant. Considering Jake was dangling it by its ankle and all.

"Um. Hi, Jake," Sam managed over the incessant wailing that was emitting from the, er, 'baby'. He stood stoically, his face blank. Sam leaned against the door frame in confusion. "You have a baby," she pointed out, hoping he would offer an explanation. _Come on, Ely, take a hint._ His mask cracked as he shifted from foot to foot, and rubbed the back his neck with his baby-free hand.

"Yeah. It's a school project. For Home-Ec, ya' know?" He flushed a bit. Sam hid a grin behind her hand.

"And… you need help?" Jake gritted his teeth; he never liked to admit that he couldn't handle everything that came his way. But, come on, a baby? Who could have predicted that?

With an almost-imperceptible nod, he held out the doll to Sam, about as close to begging as an Ely would ever get. Propping the door open further, Sam waved him into the kitchen. Jake gratefully dropped the diaper bag (robin's egg blue with yellow rattles. Jake shuddered at the scandal of it all. Honestly. _Rattles._) on the table and was uncertain what to do about It. Was he allowed to just chuck it on the table? Or was that some kind of plastic-child abuse?

Sam shook her head at his clueless expression. Taking the baby from him, she cradled it in her arms, rocking it gently. The baby's cries died down to a few pitiful whimpers before it began cooing.

"First of all, _this_ is how you hold a baby. You do not hold it upside down. Do you want to traumatize the kid?" Jake huffed in annoyance.

"But it isn't even real."

"Do you want my help or not?" Sam asked threateningly. Jake held his hands up in surrender.

"Alright, alright. Give it here." The baby felt awkward in his hands, too light compared to the burdens he was used to. Any minute and he could drop it, or break it. Sam adjusted his grip a little, and the Jake felt a bit less destructive. She smiled at the picture he made, his large hands unusually gentle on the little thing.

"Okay," Jake said quietly. "What next?"

……………………………………...

Sam sat with her feet propped up on the table, leafing idly through the assignment packet.

"Did you know that nearly fifty percent of marriages end in divorce?" Jake merely grunted, fully engrossed in his poor attempts of diaper-changing. "Maybe that's why they have you guys doing this assignment without partners…" Sam mused. No response this time, though Jake seemed to be getting increasingly frustrated with the rebellious tape and tissue demon. Sam sighed and held out her hands. "Give it here."

Jake nearly threw the baby into her grasp, collapsing in his chair in defeat.

…………………………………………...

Sam shoved a freshly diapered-doll at Jake. He looked it over, amazed that the far-too-complicated demon spawn of a diaper fit neatly onto the baby's lower half.

"How on earth do you know this stuff?" he muttered to Sam in slight (_complete_) awe.

"Maternal instinct, I guess," Sam shrugged.

Jake thought about this for a moment. That's right. Sam will someday have kids too, he guessed. The idea was strange and foreign to him. He tried to imagine Sam with a baby of her own. His mind unwittingly wandered to the process of _making _that baby… Jake flinched, forcing his mind away from _that _thought.

He felt like pervert, and guiltily peeked at Sam from the corner of his eye. She was cooing to the doll as if it were a real baby. Her baby. BABY-MAKING!

Jake jumped off the couch, walking quickly into the kitchen, shrugging off Sam's concern.

This was going to be a long day…

…………………………………………...

"I think we should name her."

"Her?"

"Yes. Her." Jake looked at Sam in bewilderment as she bounced the baby on her knee in thought. _How could she possibly know it's a girl?_—

"Emma," she said with finality, effectively cutting off Jake's thought. She looked proudly at the little—_girl?_—in her arms. "Emma Ely." Sam smiled at Jake brilliantly, and he felt his stomach do a tiny little flip.

……………………………………………...

It was evening when the phone rang, interrupting the beginnings of Emma's first bath. Sam got up stiffly from the tiled floor, leaving Jake to fend for himself.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sam?"

"Hey Dad."

"Your grandma and I can't leave Reno tonight, there's a storm blowin' through and it's stoppin' traffic somethin' awful. You going to be okay 'til morning? Brynna should be back from Washington 'round eight."

Sam nodded, then remembered he couldn't see.

"No problem, Dad. Jake's over here, though, I'm helping him out with the baby."

"Baby?"

Sam pulled the chord tight as it could go so she could just see the bathroom. She gasped.

"Sorry, Dad, I have to go. Jake! You don't hold the baby's head underneath the water to rinse it off!"

"Sam, wait—!"

The dial tone clicked on and Wyatt looked at the phone wide eyes.

…………………………………………...

"WA-AH! WA-AH! WA-AH!" Jake cracked open an eye, refusing to move from his slumped position on the couch. Sam curled up next to him with a pillow over her head, trying and failing to block out the noise. Jake groaned.

"Sam. Baby."

"Jake. Your project."

"I'll pay you."

"No you won't."

"…"

"…"

"…dammit."

……………………………………………...

Brynna bustled through the front door, lugging her suitcase to the stairs before dropping it and heading to the kitchen. Her feet ached, and she was relieved to be home and away from those stuffy, simpering politicians. All she wanted to do now was curl up on the couch with that book she just got in that little airport gift shop. Sam was probably still in bed; Brynna would let her sleep in for a while longer.

She hung her coat on the hook, shed her shoes, and walked into the family room, only to stop short at the strange sight before her.

Sam was definitely still asleep, though no where near her bed. Instead, her head was pillowed on Jake Ely's chest, curling up against the backrest as the boy laid diagonally, half-off the couch. His arm curled around her shoulder, while her arms clutched a little, plastic baby-doll.

Brynna smiled slightly, knowing her step-daughter would have an interesting tale for her later. But for now, she backed away quietly, letting them slumber on obliviously. She did not escape without proof however. She whipped out her camera phone and snapped a picture of the trio on the couch. The 'baby-sitting' adventure would be forever captured in Brynna's phone, as well as Sam and Jake's memories.

Now, whether Emma Ely would ever come into existence in flesh and blood, rather than her rubber and plastic original, is another story entirely…

* * *

A/N: Probably coulda' made it better, but hopefully I pried a few laughs out of you. I can't believe I didn't think of the whole baby-sitting thing earlier. It was a toss up between using fake-baby and Cody, but I then I realized I didn't want to scar the poor child for life. 

And, PEOPLE, I need ideas. You guys don't have any missing moments for me? Review and lay 'em on me! Pweeeease?

That's about it, so, tah for now.


	6. What a Witch

A/N: Short and shamelessly fluffy. Hope it doesn't suck but I like the idea so hopefully you will too. Ta!

Since Rachel Slocum's departure for England, Sam vowed to never let another girl intimidate her.

She hadn't counted on Witch.

The black dragon of a mare stood tall, tossing her head high and peering at Sam with eyes that she swore glinted red. There was no way. No. Way.

"Sam get over here and mount up," Jake said in exasperation. Sam stared at her supposed best friend, mutiny in her eyes. She willed her boots to take root where she stood, a safe distance of ten feet from the mare.

"I choose life," she muttered stubbornly. Jake rolled his eyes and dropped the reins, and Witch, the deceptive little cow pony she was, stood obediently. He stomped over to Sam—_bad sign_, she thought to herself—and grabbed her wrist.

"Come ON, Brat, I don't have all day here." She dug her heels in the dirt and dropped her weight as if dragging down a _loco_ horse rather than an irritated cowboy. The sudden shift caught Jake off guard and the two of them went down, Jake stumbling to his knees while Sam landed unceremoniously on her butt. Jake groaned in annoyance. "This is just ridiculous."

Sam winced, knowing she was pressing her luck with her moody friend. "Are you sure you couldn't just take Witch to college with you? Or maybe one of your brothers…" Sam trailed off as Jake's questioning look melted into that tomcat smile she hated. He stood and dusted off his faded jeans, taking care to slap his Stetson clean on his leg.

"Didn't think you'd be so scared of her, Brat." He towered over her, smirking easily. Sam closed her eyes. Well, crap. He really did know her too well. Scrambling to her feet, she growled and marched past him, making sure to knock his shoulder on the way. Jerk.

Grasping Witch's reins, Sam paused to run a hand over the satiny black neck. Clamping down on any and all butterflies in her stomach, Sam swung herself up into Jake's enormous saddle. She shifted a bit, trying to get comfortable, which caused the mare to kick out beneath her. Sam gulped. _No shifting, got it._ She sat up straight and was about to get Witch going when a heavy weight dropped down behind Sam, scaring out of her wits. Strong brown hands came into her vision, adjusting her grip on the reins.

"What the heck are you doing?" Sam yelped.

"Witch likes a loose rein," Jake's voice murmured behind her, "Too tight and she'll throw you." Sam felt her entire body stiffen and she fought to hide a blush.

"No I mean what are you doing on Witch?" she clarified. She could feel Jake's shrug and a hand disappeared to scratch the back of his neck.

"Figured it be easier to keep you from killing yourself from here, 'stead of another horse," he mumbled. Sam fought the urge to turn around and push him off.

"It's your own horse you'll have to worry about killing me," Sam muttered, turning the mare and heading over the Riverbend bridge.

An hour later, Sam was beginning to think her nerves couldn't take much more. Between Witch's relentless efforts to 'test her abilities' (Jake's words, not hers) and Sam's constant awareness of Jake behind her (she was most definitely not thinking about the warmth that he seemed to emanate and the tingling that resulted from it) she was constantly on edge.

They were about five miles from Riverbend and Jake finally decided that both Sam and Witch had had enough of each other. With a shout of joy, Sam launched the mare into a ground-eating lope. She didn't realize her mistake until she felt Jake begin to slip behind her and hold onto her waist to steady himself. Once again she found her senses zeroing in on the big hands resting lightly on her hips. Sam barely noticed they were back until Witch's hooves went from beating muffled dirt to the hollow wood of the bridge. Slowing down to a jog, then a walk, Sam was immensely relieved (really, that was relief she was feeling….right?) when Jake's hands dropped and he swung off of Witch.

Sam took a moment to steady her erratic heartbeat before looking down at Jake. He looked up, but seemed to focus over her left shoulder.

"Good job," he said clearing his throat. "You'll get along fine." Sam wondered at his odd behavior but didn't ask, simply jumped down from his monstrous mare and led her to the barn. Jake followed, as she knew he would, and together they stripped Witch of her tack and took care to groom her, as she hot and lathered from making Sam miserable.

As they finished brushing the mare, Sam voiced a question that had been on her mind.

"Why do you want me to care for Witch? You never answered." Jake glanced at her then looked away. He scratched his neck once more, and Sam almost felt bad for putting him on the spot. Key word: almost. He sighed.

"I asked you because you've spent a lot of time with her. Because you're the only one she lets get within twenty feet of her. Because I don't trust my brothers," he paused and met Sam's eyes squarely. "Because I trust you." Sam felt her breath leave her for an instant but kept eye contact until he looked away, bronze cheeks flushed.

The moment was broken by teeth closing over Sam's jacket and yanking her backwards. Sam let out a startled squeak and went down. Flat on her back, Sam peered up at the evil mare that seemed to be grinning above her. Letting out a startled laugh, Jake helped Sam up.

"Just hope she doesn't eat you before Christmas," he teased at Sam's scowling face.

A/N: Feedback and ideas please! Happy Holidays!


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